


Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

by tomlintrippin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Depression, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, harry is kinda broken, harry wants louis to smile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlintrippin/pseuds/tomlintrippin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this kind of beauty is sad</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

**Author's Note:**

> i was depressed one night and then this happened
> 
> title from Poison & Wine by the civil wars

Harry hasn't seen much beauty in the world. Blood stained wrists and shattered glass being the closest. But Harry's never seen this kind of beauty, no, not in this way. Not on someone like him: breathing.  
  
The color of blood has always been a bit magical for Harry. When it dripped down his arm or pooled around his body, it always made him crack a smile full of regret but most importantly satisfaction. It's not a smile you can give away to strangers or a smile you can trick people into thinking you're okay. But a genuine smile that searches for that little ounce of happiness and hope you can only have so much of.  
  
The crossed out _hope_ bookmarked on his worn out dictionary carries his stained fingertips with the color of magic.  
  
**Now that is beauty.**  
  
But.  
  
The thing is. This beauty is different, it's sad. Sad like the winter wind and sad like a birds broken wing.  
  
A fragile boy with fright in his eyes and the ocean crashing wildly inside.  
Darkening violet petal like bruises covering his milky skin like a garden of lilacs. Sharp cheekbones almost as sharp as Harry's razor, with fresh tears racing towards their end.  
  
You look at him and it's breathtaking, this radiating feeling of sadness.  
  
He should feel wrong to like this, like how the boy is obviously suffering. But then again, the despair in his own heart cannot be seen, cannot be touched, not like this boy.  
  
Maybe he knows how it feels to be forgotten or maybe dead. A void of darkness with no way out but to cut cut cut.  
  
Though the only cuts you can see on this boy are the finger nails engraved onto his skin.  
  
The boy is choking on his own sobs not being able to contain it all. Maybe he's not on Harry's level yet, the crying being long forgotten for him. Too dried out to even try anymore. But maybe this Beauty is almost there. Almost finished with it all. Almost like Harry.  
  
His feathery hair crazed from the harsh pulling and the violent dragging. Neck littered with bite marks and gloomy hand prints. Lips blood red from biting to hard, trying not to scream.  
  
He's never seen anything quite this sad. Or quite this sadistically beautiful.  
  
And Harry's suddenly overwhelmed with this boy.  
  
His body is flowing with want. His hands yearning for something to caress, the need to run his long wicked fingertips along this frail boy. He needs to touch or maybe even hold. Skin so pale, so thin, so helpless. Needs to kiss every crease of his body and worship every tragedy smeared on his soul.  
  
This boy is hurting and Harry understands.  
  
He'd count every hidden freckle on this boy’s body and give each one a reason why he should be Harry's.  
  
He'd whisper to this boy that he'd kiss him till the stars fizzle out if he stays.  
  
What if Harry could fix him. Day by day, piece by piece. Harry wants to see the other side of this tragic beauty. What would this boy look like if he could smile a little less fake and his eyes were a little brighter?  
  
This boy could blind you. His glow so bright you'd think he has the suns’ rays within him, sculpted and blessed from the heavens above.  
  
This time, a beauty like no other will appear. One with no sorrow nor regret but only with beginning.  
  
Harry watches the boy and admires his skin so colorful with darkened shades of horror and eyes with lusted days of happiness. He knows it can change, as long as this boy with the mangled wrists accepts his everlasting promises.  
  
He'd call him his world but this boy whose name he doesn't know nor what haunting past he's just been living can't be compared to something so rotten. Because this boy contains more beauty than words can explain and scars can bleed out.  
  
And so when Harry gains the courage to go up to the sad boy and ask for his name, he takes out his worn out dictionary and writes ‘ **Louis** ’ right next to the word _Savior_.  
  
Knowing he finally found that little ounce of hope he's been searching for.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't often write like i'd like to but i've been kinda desperate to post anything on this website
> 
> i don't own one direction  
> i was sad


End file.
